


Irrefutable Facts

by princesskay



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Adult Content, Fighting, Fluff, M/M, Making Up, Possessive!Spock, Smut, needy!Jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 09:49:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3605670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where does Jim fit into Spock's next pon farr?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irrefutable Facts

The doors of Sick Bay swished open, jarring Dr. McCoy's intently focused gaze from the computer. As Nurse Chapel entered, he plucked the tape from the computer to hide the contents.

“I just came to relieve you for lunch, Doctor.” Christine said, puzzled by the doctor's scowl.

“Oh, thank you, Nurse ...”

McCoy palmed the tape and marched out of Sick Bay without another word.

The contents of the tape were highly personal, and he handled it with his highest level of discretion. Telling anyone about what he'd discovered could ignite a chain of gossip and upset the whole ship. It wasn't something, however, that he could fix on his own – and he didn't want to bring it to Captain Kirk's attention quite yet either.

There was only one other person to go to.

McCoy slapped the tape against his palm as he considered his next course of action. It wasn't his favorite idea, but it seemed to be the only alternative.

With a sigh, McCoy turned to the communicator on the wall outside of Sick Bay and contacted the bridge, “Sick Bay to Bridge. Could Mister Spock please come down for a minute. It's important.”

After a moment's pause, Spock's voice replied, “I'll be right down, doctor.”

“Thank you.”

McCoy leaned against the wall and gaze down at the tape in his palm. It was baffling that something so small held such weighty information.

Tapping his foot, McCoy waited impatiently for several moments before the doors of the turbo lift down the hall parted to let Spock off. The Vulcan strode down the hall to where the doctor waited, a frown taking over his pointed brows.

“Doctor, what is so important that you bring me down here only to find you lounging-”

“It's delicate, Spock.” McCoy interrupted, holding up the tape, “I don't want anyone to overhear.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Spock asked, his brow rising.

“It's Jim's routine physical.”

Spock's expression was stoic, but McCoy caught the glimpse of surprise, and perhaps even worry.

“What were your findings?” Spock asked, slowly.

“Physically, everything is normal.” McCoy replied with a wave of his hand, “It was the mental test that Jim faltered at.”

“What was the nature of his shortcoming?”

“It's hard to say, since the test is for basic variances in emotions, and not something more complex, but … I'd say for sure Jim isn't feeling himself. I mean, you saw how he's been acting.”

“Yes.” Spock said, clasping his hands behind his back, “I have noted certain imbalances in the captain's behavior. His reactions on our last mission were at times illogical, even for a human.”

“Well, it's clear flying right now, so I'd appreciate it if you could try to figure out what's going on in that brain of his before we're in danger again.” McCoy suggested.

“Doctor, you presume too much.” Spock disagreed, “You are the expert in life science, not I. You are far more equipped to understand the malfunction of a human.”

“Malfunction? We're talking about Jim's emotions, his mental stability. My God, Spock.”

“A malfunction simply refers to a discrepancy in a being's normal functions, Doctor. I meant no offense.” Spock said, calmly.

“Nevertheless, I want you to to talk to him.” McCoy insisted, “He listens to you, Spock.”

“As you are well aware, Jim routinely follows his own decisions-”

“I'm not asking you to change his mind. I'm just asking you to figure out the problem. And I don't want it getting back to him that I'm the one who told you. I'm not supposed to disclose patient's information.” McCoy groused.

“Very well,” Spock said, “I shall attempt to determine the cause and source of the issue.”

“Thank you.” McCoy replied.

With a nod, Spock turned and marched back down the hall to the turbo lift. McCoy watched him go, shaking his head.

 

~

 

Spock strode down the quiet halls of _The Enterprise,_ focused on the path that led to the captain's quarters. 

McCoy's assumptions came as little surprise to Spock, who considered himself to a rather observant person. He hadn't just “noted discrepancies” in Jim's behavior; there was a pattern emerging, and Spock could trace it nearly back to it's source. He only wished his logic could prove his theory wrong, but it was logic that had led him to the answer. Jim's behavior may be illogical, but it was partially predictable.

Spock drew in a deep breath as he reached Jim's quarters. Pressing the doorbell firmly, he awaited Jim's reply.

“Come in.” Jim's reply was muted and staggered by sleep.

The door slid open, giving Spock entrance. The quarters were dimmed to almost the lowest setting, casting Jim's form in a shadow. The captain sat on the edge of the bed, wearing only his trousers and mussed hair. He winced against the light from the hall as Spock stepped in.

“It better be an emergency, Spock.” He muttered, rubbing both hands over his face.

“An emergency, yes, but not involving the ship.”

Jim's head swiveled upward, a frown curling his brows.

“Well, speak your mind.” He said, rising from the bed.

Spock arched a brow, “Very well.”

Clearing his throat, he paced across the room to where Jim stood, stopping just a foot away.

“It's McCoy. He's looked over your physical and deemed it unfit.”

“Deemed … unfit … Why?” Jim demanded.

“He declined to specify, but I don't require him to enlighten me.” Spock replied, narrowing his eyes.

He hoped Jim would simply break down and tell him, but he had already calculated the possibilities based on their situation and Jim's standard form of dealing with confrontation.

“Spock, not now.” Jim said, after a few beats of silence, “I haven't slept well in three days, repairs are still going on, and Uhura just informed me we have new orders coming in from Starfleet Command. I don't need you riding me too.”

“Captain …” Spock sighed the moment the title slipped off his lips. He lifted his chin, locking onto Jim's defiant, hazel eyes, “Jim.”

“What?”

“Being a Vulcan living among humans for the past several years, I know something of human behavior and psychology.”  
“Don't start.” Jim snapped, shouldering his way around Spock.

“Jim, I am not accustomed to perpetuating a relationship with a human.” Spock replied, keeping his tone level and calm, “I don't pretend to entirely comprehend your emotions; I simply know they are not functioning as normal.”

“I'm perfectly fine, Spock.” Jim replied, snatching his shirt from the chair in the corner of the room.

“Jim.” Spock repeated, this time more firmly.

Marching to where Jim stood, he pulled the other man around to face him.

“According to facts gathered by doctors and scientists alike, humans are most happy when receiving sexual intercourse with their mates eleven to twenty times per month. If my memory serves correctly, and I believe it has, I have not accomplished such a number with you in this course of this month.”

Jim's lashes beat rapidly, and his cheeks attained a tinge of pink. Biting his lower lip, he broke off his gaze from Spock to stare at the floor. Spock could hear the acceleration of his heart beat, note the increase of warmth over his skin.

“It's not within my desire to force you.” Spock added, “Only to understand what error I have committed.”

“You've committed no error, Spock.” Jim replied, lifting his chin.

“To tell lies to me, Jim, is illogical and also futile.”

“Well you're going to twist my arm about it until I spill, aren't you?” Jim demanded, his eyes flaring.

“I wouldn't think of-”

“All right, fine.” Jim threw up his hands, “Fine … You and I both know what this is about. It's about that girl back on Vulcan; it's about the  _pon farr_ and everything that goes with it, Spock.”

“Of course.” Spock nodded.

“You knew?” Jim asked, surprised.

“I suspected.”

“Well, why didn't you say anything before?” Jim asked, somewhat angrily.

“I had hoped you would simply come to me yourself and explain the situation rationally rather than refusing contact with me.”

“How am I supposed to talk to you?” Jim grumbled, pacing back across the room, “How do I explain insecurity to a Vulcan?”

“It's not beyond my understanding.” Spock pointed out, “You were not informed of my people's ways, of the bonding and  _pon farr._ I should not have assumed it would not confuse or upset you.”

“You had a wife back on your planet, Spock!” Jim shouted, spinning to face him, “While you're up here in on  _The Enterprise_ with me, you have a girl back home, waiting to marry you! For God's sakes, of course it confused and upset me.”

“I don't believe raising your voice is necessary.” Spock said, raising his brows.

“It's called a fight, Spock.” Jim replied, his lip curling, “It happens between a couple when one of them withholds important information from the other.”

“I withheld nothing. You didn't ask, and I didn't consider it important-”

“Didn't consider it important?” Jim repeated, slowly, enunciating each word.

“Jim, please-”

“No. No, you are not throwing yourself over this bomb, Spock.” Jim argued, rushing across the room to glare directly into Spock's eyes, “You're going to tell me what I want to hear.”

“And what is that, may I ask?” Spock asked, tone cool, expression smooth.

“What happens the next time  _pon farr_ comes around?” Jim whispered, “What happens when this mission is over? Where do I even fit in between all the information and logic up there?” He motioned wildly to Spock head, then stabbed a finger at his chest, “In here?”

“ _Pon farr_ occurs every seventh year. If I don't have a mate bonded to me back on Vulcan, I must find another with which to breed.” 

“Oh, breed. That's wonderful, Spock!” Jim said, throwing his hands up, “So the answer is, I don't fit in at all, do I?”

“Breeding is the natural result of a union.” Spock said, shaking his head, “But it is not unheard of in our culture to take a mate that does not complete the task of perpetuating the species. I'm simply explaining to you the basic routine of _pon farr._ ”

“I don't want to know about how every other Vulcan does it.” Jim replied, spitefully. Running both hands through his hair, he gave a weary sigh, “I only care about you.”

“I have no knowledge of what occurs at the conclusion of this mission.” Spock said, quietly, “Reassignment, perhaps on separate missions. It would not be my desire for that to happen.”

Jim's eyes softened a bit, but Spock could see that he was still guarded.

“Jim,” Spock said, reaching up to touch his captain's cheek, “Logic is the way of my people; it is my way. However, as I have often discovered through experience, it is the beginning of knowledge, not the end of it. To deny our relationship based solely on logic would in itself be illogical, in that it's existence cannot be changed. I have bonded to you unlike any other Vulcan. Returning to Vulcan at the time of  _pon farr_ was unavoidable; it was not what I wanted, Jim. In a way,  _The Enterprise_ is my home now instead of Vulcan; you are my home.”

Jim's defensive posture crumbled. Spock could see the light sheen of tears in his eyes, the likes of which caused an unexpected shaft of pain through his own heart. 

“Do you require me to answer any further questions?” He asked.

“No.” Jim whispered, fingers lingering over his mouth.

Spock watched as he trudged across the room to the bed, and sank heavily to the mattress. His head slumped into his hands, drawing the muscles of his bare shoulders taut.

The dim overhead light cast pale, golden rays on his naked skin and the golden strands of hair, catching Spock's eyes in a way that couldn't be ignored. He had never seen beauty before if he had not laid eyes on Jim.

“Jim.” He said, quietly, “Let me come to you.”

Jim slowly lifted his face from his hands, letting the irregularity of his breathing reach Spock's attuned ears.

He swallowed hard, as if attempting to speak, but instead relied on a simple nod of his head.

Crossing the room, Spock sat down next to Jim, their legs touching. He drew his fingertips across the smooth, warm texture of Jim's cheek, turning Jim's face toward him. Jim drew in a quick breath just as their mouths touched.

As always, the taste of his captain's mouth was a sudden shock that involuntarily made Spock want to break contact. Instead, he pushed closer, briefly analyzing the temperature and texture of Jim's mouth, before curling his tongue forward.

Jim grabbed onto his wrist, pushing himself closer. A low moan vibrated against Spock's lips, signaling Jim's rising pleasure and sparking Spock's own.

Spock drew his other hand up Jim's naked back to cradle the back of his head. Holding Jim's jaw with the other, he dragged his mouth away from Jim's lips and down to his neck. Jim shivered, head fighting against Spock's hold as Spock caressed the tender curve of his neck with warm, wet lips.

“Spock.” He managed, making his first plea of the night.

Spock clamped his fingers tight around Jim's jaw and skull, and employed his mouth in long, heated kisses down Jim's neck and shoulder, tasting the skin, and testing the pulse just underneath.

“Spock ...” Jim's fingers clawed at Spock's chest, catching on the material of his shirt.

This time, Spock responded by pushing Jim down against the mattress, using only a fraction of his Vulcan strength. Jim responded to strength and control far better than any other tactic; there was a primal need that seemed to awake inside him when Spock held him down, exerted his power.

Jim panted, his skin flushed with racing blood, his fingers grappling at the sheets. Fingers still locked around Jim's jaw, Spock watched him squirm for a moment before bending down to suck gently at one hard nipple. The flesh was an exquisite token to his lips, both hard and soft; a tender fraction of an ultimately strong whole.

Jim's hips bucked under Spock's weight as Spock moved across his chest to the opposite nipple. Whining quietly, he pulled at Spock's neat hair, attempting to remove the torturous pleasure.

“Spock ...” He ground out from between teeth clenched by Spock's grip.

Spock allowed his fingers to ease away from Jim's jaw in favor of gaining hold on Jim's squirming hips. He grazed his lips down Jim's stomach, fascinated by the quiver it held, the pleasure rippling just beneath.

“Spock, yes.” Jim panted.

His hips surged upward as Spock's lips brushed against the waistband of his pants, chin rubbing momentarily against the hard tip of erection straining against Jim's pants.

Spock slowly slid the button open, drawing a sharp breath from Jim.

“Yes.” Jim whispered, his eyes fastened on Spock from above, “I'm so hard for you.”

Spock swallowed against the rising pleasure. Half a year into their affair, and sometimes he still forgot he was allowed to enjoy this activity as well.

He pulled the zipper down, allowing Jim's cock to flex outward, still barely concealed by his boxers. Running the pad of his thumb up the shaft, Spock watched as Jim winced and groaned low in his throat. 

Unable to control himself any longer, Spock hooked his fingers under both the pants and the boxers and swiftly brought them down Jim's legs. Jim cried out as his cock snapped free of the material, slapping against his stomach as hard and red as could be.

Spock threw the pants clear of the bed and lunged onto Jim. Seizing Jim's cock in his hand, he directed it to his open lips.

“Spock!” Jim cried, sitting halfway up as Spock's mouth swallowed the top half of his cock.

Spock shoved his mouth down the throbbing flesh, feeling it touch the back his tongue with the first suck.

“Spock, please.” Jim moaned, his fingers curling around sections of jet black hair.

Spock pumped his mouth over the erection, allowing mouthfuls of saliva to stream down the throbbing, hard shaft and moisten his fingers. He ignored the stretching of his jaw, the suffocating girth of Jim's cock; his mind was focused solely on the next step of pleasuring Jim.

“Oh God!” Jim breathed out, his thighs quivering on either side of Spock's head, “Oh God, Spock … Please ...”

Closing off all other thoughts, Spock relaxed his throat and sank down on Jim's cock until his lips pressed against the smooth, warm skin at the base.

“Oh my God, yes ...” Jim whispered, his hand trembling over Spock's head, “Yes, take it all … take it ...”

Spock closed his eyes and listened to the sound of Jim's racing heart. It fluttered like a caged bird when he performed this oral trick, pleasing them both each and every time. It was simple mind over matter to Spock, but according to Jim, no other lover had managed to swallow it all.

Jim's rapid breathing was choppy over the sounds of Spock's rhythmic sucking, forming a muted, but pleasure-filled duet. The song continued on for only three minutes longer, by Spock's rough estimation, before Jim began to pull at his hair and stiffen in pleasure.

Spock sucked off the tip and seized the swollen member in his hand. With a few final pumps, Jim bucked and gaze a strangled cry. Spock's gaze raked up and down Jim's trembling body, noting every tiny movement and clench of muscle, down to the dilation of Jim's pupils. His gaze was snapped back down to the cock in his grasp when the drops of hot fluid began to stream of Jim's cock.

He climaxed hard and long, his fingers pulling at the sheets, his legs spasming and kicking on either side of Spock. The release dampened the sheets and Spock's hand, leaving them both panting in pleasure.

Jim's eyes opened slowly. He gazed up at Spock, blinking and unfocused.

“You're right.” He whispered, his voice rough from shouting, “It's been far too long.”

Spock plucked Jim's hand from the sheets and kissed the knuckles briefly.

“Irrefutable facts.” He replied with a fleeting smile.

Jim sighed and glanced over at the clock, “I have to be on the Bridge soon.”

Spock rose from the bed and walked to the the replicator.

“Also an irrefutable fact.” He agreed, punching in his desired item from the replicator, “However, you're going to have to inform the crew on duty that you were occupied.”

“Is that so?” Jim asked, smirking.

“Undeniably so.”

“If that's how it is, I order you to get rid of all those clothes.”

“Unnecessary, _Captain._ ” Spock replied, arching a brow, “My plan includes disrobing.”

Jim's eyes sparked with desire, and a sly smile curled his lips. Rolling onto his stomach, he rested his cheek at the edge of the bed and watched as Spock began to undress.

Quickly and efficiently, Spock removed his clothing piece by piece and threw them aside. Snatching the lube from the replicator tray, he prowled across the room to where Jim lay sprawled across the bed on his stomach.

“Your plan also includes keeping me prisoner here in my quarters?” Jim murmured, glancing over his shoulder at Spock with heavily lidded eyes.

“If you require me to.” Spock replied, bending over Jim to deliver a kiss to his temple.

Jim moaned out as Spock's fingers wound tight around a handful of his hair. Spock reined Jim closer, making his back arch and his ass rise. It was a sight difficult to resist, even for a disciplined Vulcan. He'd been struck helpless almost from the very moment Jim first threw the barriers of clothing aside.

Spock bent closer, blowing hot breaths over Jim's neck and shoulder. His fingers brushed against Jim's temple and cheek, catching brief glimpses of chaotic desire and scattered thoughts, before snaking lower to caress the smooth skin and curved spine.

Jim whined quietly, his body quivering as Spock's fingertips made their way down to the warm cleft below his tailbone. The skin was smooth and heated to Spock's touch, urging the pleasure higher. He dragged his thumb and forefinger back and forth over the tight ring of muscle, enamored by the pleasant intricacies of Jim's body.

“Ah, Spock...” Jim moaned, fighting against Spock's grip on his hair.

Spock pulled him back in place, silently demanding submission. Jim lowered his head, and Spock allowed him to go to the sheets. Jim remained in kneeling position long after Spock relinquished it's grip, giving Spock a subdued thrill of pleasure.

He uncapped the lube and drizzled the clear liquid down the cleft until it streamed over Jim's hole and down his balls. Jim flinched as the cool substance touched his heated skin, and moaned louder when Spock followed it with the caress of his own fingers.

There in the exquisite warmth, he probed his fingers in deep to find the well of pleasure within. It was a great, clenching pleasure that clutched his fingers, first spasming and then turning to a vice in unremitting arousal.

“Spock ...”

The whispered groan reached Spock's ears, but was hardly acknowledged for the focus that the Vulcan exuded. His eyes raked down Jim's rigid, trembling body, taking great care to notice every nuance that determined he was properly pleasuring his captain. He held no thought of failure; his fingers accessed the deepest parts with practiced accuracy, tapping into pleasure not explored by humans.

At last, at Jim's rapid, escalating groaning, Spock withdrew his hand.

Jim gasped for proper breaths, his body lapsing forward under the weight of unrelenting pleasure. Bearing him back up to his knees again, Spock gripped his cheeks open to inspect the job his fingers had done on sensitive, normally clinched muscle. Jim gaped open and ready, though quivering and already raw.

Spock pressed closer, rubbing his engorged cock along the crevice and pleasured hole. Jim whimpered into the sheets, his fingers white-knuckled around the corners of his pillow. He hid his face from sight, but Spock could sense the rush of blood to his cheeks, and moreover, the rush to his cock.

He was primed and ready; limp with defeat and submission.

Spock swung his hips forward, driving his cock past the opening and into hot, silk insides that clamped around him the moment it reached the deepest point. Gripping Jim's hips, Spock rested there, panting and blinking against blinding pleasure. No matter the height or greatness of the pleasure Jim fulfilled inside him, he remained in utmost control. To throw himself into oblivion and pleasure without a mind would be illogical.

“Spock!” Jim cried, wiggling and attempting to break himself free of the unrelenting pressure that bore down his hole, “Spock, please!”

Retaining his clutch on Jim's hips, Spock slid back slowly, relieving the pressure only momentarily. He pulsed his hips firmly against the tight, upraised ass, drawing low, trembling pleas from Jim's lips. As captain, Jim never begged, but underneath Spock, it was all he could do – and if Spock allowed himself any emotion, it was glee, so that he could listen to that whining, pathetic begging with the barest of smiles.

He set the pace slow and steady, hips ramming against Jim's ass at regular intervals. Each time Jim's body closed around him, he drew back, stretching that aching space open once more. Each time Jim moaned and pulled away, Spock drew him close again for another round of unbearable pounding.

Jim tore at the sheets with his fingers, his body shaking and writhing under Spock's control. Sweat lined the clenched muscles over his back and shoulders, the scent of which ignited the deepest, primal need buried in Spock's DNA; joined by the low, sharp moans of pleasure from Jim, that raw scent nearly sent him toppling over the edge.

Pulling Jim back up onto his hands and knees, Spock braced one hand against Jim's sweating spine and burst into a faster rhythm, no less deeper than before.

Their bodies met with loud, distinct slaps, counting down the long, torturous seconds that Spock rode against him. Mere seconds stretched, driving Jim to louder, more determined moans, while Spock clung to his last threads of control. It took all the power of his mind not to climax too soon, for this was their reunion after too long, and he intended to leave the mark of this encounter engrained in Jim's mind.

“Spock, please! Oh God, please!”

Such cries determined that he was very close to accomplishing his goal.

Pulling out, Spock relented only momentarily in order to flip Jim's noodle-like body onto his back. Jim's face came into view, all flushed and red, his wide, hazel eyes glazed over with pleasure, his typically combed back hair awry – the very representation of carnality.

Forcing Jim's legs up against his chest, Spock slipped his cock back inside the raw, gaping orifice for the final moments of their intercourse.

Spock dug his knees into the mattress and thrust himself against Jim's weak, shivering body, as rapidly and deeply as he could manage. Jim, practically sobbing in pleasure, grasped at Spock's neck and shoulders, his nails scraping across the flesh, nearly to the the point of cutting. His body arched rigid against Spock's thrusts, fighting the flashes of pain Spock's penetrating thrusts caused, but begging for the pleasure that loomed so massively before him.

His warm, hazel eyes reached up to meet Spock's, exuding a deep-seated pleasure and an adoration that Spock had never witnessed before. It was as if a human had reached into his mind for the first time, instead of vice virsa – as if Jim could truly see his mind.

A moment of terror at the slip of control flashed through Spock's disordered thoughts. As if moved by it's own accord, his fingers reached up to clutch the side of Jim's face, digging into the pressure points to attain immediate contact.

Jim's mind opened wide and inviting before him, blasting him first and foremost with unbridled human pleasure. It was so strong that his grip on climax nearly slipped away, but he forced his mind deeper, past the superficial pleasure to Jim's true thoughts.

He'd been here before, but never at such a vulnerable, exposed moment. Not at a moment so rife with rampant, human emotion. It was warm and bright here, like the sun shining on his face, like a bonfire on a cold night. It was cradling him like a child, scared to share his feelings, yet at the same time, it bowed before him, submitting unequivocally. It said – no shouted - “I love you,” and could not be mistaken for anything else.

Spock sensed his body stiffening against Jim's, the pleasure coming like a wild herd of oxen, unstoppable; but his mind was far beyond in the reaches of Jim's mind, echoing back the sensations Jim gave him.

It was not words as human or alien tongues could speak. It was not the three simple words that humans depended on so deeply.

It was a feeling, so deep and profound, that Spock could not believe that it could truly come from his own mind. He did not have the capacity to love, yet everything inside his head screamed that baffling idea.

Suddenly, Spock's mind went blank with blazing, white light, and his whole body seemed to be electrified with pleasure. His mind thrown free of Jim's, he found himself in reality, on Jim's bed, his captain, his lover, writhing and climaxing beneath him. The splashes of Jim's release against his stomach and chin were the moment of finality; Spock allowed himself to slip into the abyss of pleasure where he moaned and bucked through the strongest spasms of pleasure he was yet to endure.

Their moans died, their movements ceased, and time seemed to slip away into nothing.

Spock lay with his head against Jim's shoulder, breathing in the varying scents of skin, soap, and sex. It smelled delectable on Jim, but somehow, Spock doubted he would consider it so upon any other being.

“Our minds ...” Jim whispered, at last, his voice low and hoarse, “They were one.”

“Yes.” Spock replied, not lifting his head.

“I … I saw … your mind. It's nothing I've ever experienced before.”

“I could say the same to you.” Spock whispered, reaching up to run his fingers over Jim's jaw, “Unlike so many creatures and humans I have melded with, your mind is beautiful. I wish to look upon it again.”

Jim caught Spock's hand in his own, and guided the fingertips back to his temple.

“I don't mind at all.”

Suddenly, the telecom whistled, and Uhura's voice cut into the premature moments of melding.

“Bridge to Captain Kirk. Starfleet Command has just hailed us.”

Jim sighed and dropped his head back against the pillow, “Can't we have one night?”

“Our duties require us.” Spock said, sitting upright, “We must go now.”

“Normally, I would say screw Starfleet Command and sequester myself here in my quarters for the next several hours, but somehow I don't think you'll allow me to do that.” Jim chuckled.

“I think not.” Spock said, arching a brow.

Jim sighed, and slowly lifted himself from the bed, wincing as he did, “So, back to reality it is.”

He limped toward his bathroom, and Spock rushed to hold his elbow.

“Do you require assistance, Jim?”

Jim raised his eyebrows and gave a wry smile, “You do that very well … Mr. Spock.”

“I would take it as a compliment, Jim, but if I have injured you in any way, I find it neither acceptable nor amusing.”

“Relax, Spock.” Jim said, patting Spock's chest, “I've had worse.”

Spock straightened, an indignant look overcoming his face, “I shouldn't think so, Jim.”

Jim's lips broke into a smile, “Then I'll just say, I'll survive.”

“If you need anything-”

“I'm fine. Now go, get cleaned up.” Jim waved him off, “There's no doubt that within the next hour we'll be neck deep in whatever it is Starfleet Command wants us to do.”

“Will do.” Spock nodded.

He turned to gather his clothing, but Jim caught his arm. Their gazes locked once more, Jim's wide and warm with emotion, Spock's clear and questioning.

“I'll … _never_ question you again.” Jim whispered.

Spock allowed himself a very brief smile. Crossing his first two fingers over Jim's, he pressed his mouth against Jim's ear and murmured, “I don't doubt it.”

 

~the end

 

 

 


End file.
